


Not a Perfect Day for a Wedding

by Scholastica



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hidden Feelings, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24171886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scholastica/pseuds/Scholastica
Summary: On the day Harry is supposed to marry Ginny, Hermione has something she needs to tell him.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This story takes place post-Hogwarts and is not epilogue compliant.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

Hermione cracked the door to the Weasley’s old broom shed open and peered inside; it had been converted into a men’s changing room for the day and, as she had hoped, she found her best friend of nearly ten years, Harry Potter, inside. Alone.

_Excellent_. She really didn’t want to have to Confund anyone that day.

It was such a pretty day after all, what with the sun shining brightly over Ottery St Catchpole, the sky a lovely blue with wispy white clouds flecked here and there, and a nice light breeze whispering through the trees that kept any burn of heat away. Not to mention all the happy people that were there all gathered currently underneath one extra-large pavilion.

The perfect day, in fact, for a wedding.

Hermione’s stomach instantly did a somersault at that thought.

_Well, maybe not for me_ , the brunette brooded, slipping her slim frame the rest of the way into the small building and preparing herself for what would no doubt be the most difficult conversation of her life.

Even worse than when she had to admit to the boys years ago that she had accidentally transformed herself into a cat.

Before she could even begin to form a word, much less a sentence, however, Harry caught sight of her in a mirror. “Hey you,” he said turning to her, a big grin plastered on his handsome face. “I was wondering when you would show up in here. I could use some help with this thing.” He tugged at a now wrinkled-looking tie wrapped around his neck. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he added.

She flushed at his comment, relishing in the simple words of a man who had become dearer to her than any other person alive. A man she…

_No!_ she scolded herself. _Focus. Keep sight of what you need to say. Weak knees can come later_.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Probably not.

Doubtful.

The young woman’s mind started to spin off suddenly in a dozen different directions. A dozen different thoughts…

“Harry, I’m leaving.”

And just like that she said it.

“Leaving?” he smiled, interpreting her words as a joke. “But you only just got here.”

She shook her head sadly. “No, Harry. I’m leaving.” She bit her lip, hesitating. Then, “I’m not staying for the wedding.”

The young man froze, all signs of merriment instantly sliding off his face. “Hermione, what are you talking about?” 

The brunette closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. The moment she had been waiting for for so long had finally come. She wished she felt at peace with it, but she could only claim to feel extreme anxiety. It was time, though.

“Harry,” she said, “I love you.” She opened her eyes, then added quietly, “I’m in love with you."

Harry just stared, and for a whole ten seconds – and it was ten seconds because the young woman counted – not a sound of any kind could be heard in the whole space of the converted shed. Not a sigh. Not a breath. Not a blink of eyelids. It was just silence. A strange kind of quiet that reminded Hermione of the time all those years ago when she had been petrified and had learned what it was like to be something akin to the living dead.

Finally, Harry turned away, leaving the witch staring in misery at his back. A moment later, she watched as he lifted a hand and ran it through his thick black hair, mussing the locks from the tamed, sleek do he had combed them down into.

_Now it won’t look nice for the wedding_ , she thought wretchedly. _And it’s all my fault_.

“It’s pretty late for this, Hermione,” he said stonily a heartbeat, or twenty, later, jolting her from her wallowing. He turned back to her, his green eyes blazing in a way she had never seen them before.

“I know,” she said, wringing her hands, her eyes dropping to the ground, unable to meet his intense gaze. “But I had to tell you…before – before – ” She couldn’t finish her sentence, despising herself for upsetting a day that should have been perfectly wonderful for everyone. Goodness, she didn’t even want to think about what Ginny was going to say when she inevitably found out about all this.

“Before I married another woman?” Harry supplied, his voice laced with an edge that unnerved Hermione more than she would ever want to admit.

The brunette nodded her head, her body now starting to tremble slightly, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. “So so sorry.”

Her friend exhaled loudly through his nose, his hand, she noticed from the corner of her water-filled eyes, rising upward once more – to his hair again, his face, she didn’t know.

More seconds spent in silence passed.

“What about Ron?” he eventually asked. “Have you talked to him…about…about…” he waved his hands in the space around him. “Any of this?” His voice, usually so steady, cracking on the last bit.

It was that, the catch in her dearest friend’s voice, that finally forced the young woman to raise her eyes to meet his again, the first of the tears finally streaming their way down her cheeks.

“I’m not in love with him.”

“But all these years…”

She shook her head. “No. I- I tried. I wanted to be. I wished I could be.” _It would be so much easier_. “But no. I’ve never been in love with Ron. It’s always been-”

“Why do you tell me this now?!” Harry demanded interrupting her, a tear, if Hermione wasn’t mistaken, slipping out of one of his own eyes. “Why?” his voice softer this time; pleading.

She looked at him sadly.

“Because you were the first person that made me feel like I mattered.”

Suddenly, their eyes locked, and in that moment, when honey brown met emerald green, a torrent of a decade of memories rushed between them. The troll in the bathroom during first year. The ride on Buckbeak’s back during third. The planning of Dumbledore’s Army. The search for the horcruxes. The defeat of Voldemort. And everything in-between and after.

Their lives.

Their friendship.

Their moments.

Hermione closed her eyes, allowing this possibly last bit of their time together to seep into her soul, content if not happy that she had said what she had needed to say before all hope was truly lost.

Now it was time to let the cards fall where they may.

When she opened her eyes again, she found Harry watching her, his face – that face she knew so well, possibly as well as her own – guarded. Oh, how she wished she could ask him what he was thinking.

But she couldn’t.

The time had passed.

She reached for the door knob behind her.

“I love you, Harry,” she said one last time, her voice and every other limb of her body, weak. “Good bye.” With a gentle push of her hand, the door swung open, and with one final tear-filled look between them, she slid out of the shed and out into the unknown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After telling her true feelings to Harry, Hermione finds herself at Hogwarts. Only, she isn't alone.

The unknown led her all the way to the Hogwarts’ library.

Just like so many other upheavals in her young life had before.

The young woman sighed, her fingers tracing the spines of books as she passed them on a slow walk-through of the great room, moments of years gone by circling through her thoughts on endless repeat: researching for essays with the boys; preparing Harry for the Triwizard Tournament; secret trips into the Restricted Section for some impossible task…

For a moment she wished she had her old time turner – five hour limit or not – to go back and visit those precious moments again. The good and bad. It didn’t matter. Because _he_ was there. And that would be enough.

It would _have_ to be enough.

The brunette paused by the desk that Madam Pince used to hold court over everyone in and slid into the surprisingly comfortable chair behind it. Once properly seated, she laid her head on the large surface in front of her and closed her eyes, her most recent and possibly last conversation with Harry at the forefront of her thoughts. As it would probably be for the next several days. Months. Years…

“I should have told him sooner,” she mumbled, her cheek pressing into the cool mahogany wood beneath it, her hand rubbing at the curls that tumbled all around her face. “So much sooner.”

A door suddenly creaked open and a voice said, “I agree.”

The young woman’s eyes shot open, her heartbeat immediately picking up in tempo. She was alone. The castle was empty. Even Filch was gone somewhere for the day. So how…?

She lifted her head, a hope that had suddenly budded in her chest when she heard the unexpected voice blossoming into a full-blown bloom.

“Harry?” she whispered, her eyes barely believing what they were seeing. “Wh – what are you doing here? The wedding…”

“Is canceled,” her best friend answered, walking through the rows of student tables that lined the main area of the library to get to her, unwinding the now _very_ wrinkled-looking tie from around his neck.

 _Canceled?!_ She gaped for a moment, disbelieving. “Ginny -”

“Is furious,” he finished for her, his green eyes giving nothing away about how he felt about any of it. “As are all the Weasleys. I think Ron was going to try and deck me if I hadn’t apparated away before he could.”

Hermione lifted a hand to her mouth. She hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. She couldn’t believe it _had_ happened.

But then, here he was. Harry. In the library with her at Hogwarts.

“But…why? Why are you here?” _How did he even know where to look for her?_ She shook her head, nothing making sense to her. “Why is the wedding canceled?”

Having reached her at her desk, Harry stopped and ran a hand through his hair.

“You know, Hermione, for someone as incredibly intelligent as you are, you’re not using that big beautiful brain of yours very well right now.”

The brunette stared miserably down at her hands. “I’m sorry.”

She heard a sigh and a second later felt a finger slip under her chin gently tipping it until she was staring once more into the emerald eyes of her best friend.

“You don’t need to be.”

The witch opened her mouth to offer some kind of rebuttal – because she surely should be after everything – but Harry wouldn’t have any of it.

“Hermione,” he said, “you asked me why I’m here?” It was a statement more than a question and the young woman meekly nodded her head. “I’m here because of you.” His finger lingered for another moment under her chin, then he withdrew it and Hermione felt an immediate loss from his touch. “Because not having you in my life is not an option. It took me all of a minute after you left the shed to realize that.”

_What?!_

The young woman couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped her lips then. “But…my feelings for you…” She turned her face away from him, a flush covering her cheeks. “You said I was too late.”

The wizard shook his head. “I said it was _pretty_ late. I didn’t say it was _too_ late.”

Hermione rubbed anxiously at her temple, not even daring to hope about what he was saying – or not saying. 

“But Ginny…” she said. Poor, sweet Ginny. The sister she never had. How could she forget about her in all this? “You love her, don’t you?”

Harry’s brow creased at her question. “I thought I did,” he said, and his voice sounded sad for the first time since their conversation began. “But,” and he turned her face so she was looking at him again, “I realized I had it all wrong.

The young woman swallowed nervously. “What do you mean you had it wrong?”

Harry’s lips slowly curled into a small but sincere smile, his hand drifting from her cheek to her curls. “That it’s you, Hermione Granger, more than anyone else in this whole world, I can’t live without.” He released his hold on her then and stood up straight. “When you said that final goodbye to me, it was…” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I think it was the most afraid I had ever been. _Ever._ I mean, I was mad, yeah – stunned that you would spring all this on me at the last minute there, but scared too. So scared. Worse than anything else in my life. Even Voldemort. Because losing you…I just – I just can’t, Hermione.”

Hermione blinked, and before she realized what she was doing, she was sliding out of her chair and pacing around the room.

“Oh, but I’ve made such a mess of things for you,” she lamented, her hands twisting nervously at her sides, twisting at a dress for a wedding that had not happened. Because of her. “You should just forget about everything I said. Forget about me.”

Harry pushed himself away from the desk. “Forget about you, Hermione?!” he goggled at her. “Forget about you?! I could never do that! How could you even ask such a thing?!”

How?

_How?!_

The witch suddenly stopped and closed her eyes, ordering the tears that now pooled there not to fall.

“Because…because…”

She had no reason. She didn’t want a reason.

She just wanted Harry.

“Hermione.”

The brunette opened her eyes; Harry now stood a few paces away, watching her in a kind yet careful way, his hand stretched out toward her. She wanted to take it.

“Hermione,” he repeated. “This was – is – my choice.”

The young woman trembled at his words, but she needed him to clarify them. To explain just what specifically it was he meant. 

“And what…what it is your choice exactly?” she whispered.

Harry walked the short distance to her, his stride purposeful, his demeanor sure. “The same one it’s been since I was eleven years old,” he replied. And he slid his arms around her and pulled her close to him, an action he had done a thousand times over the course of their friendship, but never like this – never with so much hidden meaning behind it.

“And that is?” she prompted resting her head against him.

“You.”


End file.
